


Nightcall

by cinnamon_skull



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is Seventeen, M/M, Pining, Temptation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6713410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_skull/pseuds/cinnamon_skull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin has a choice to make. Dick tries not to get in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightcall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladelle/gifts), [TaneKore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaneKore/gifts).



> Thank you Ladelle for your warm encouragement and problem solving, even when you are at the grocery store at 7:30 a.m.; and thank you TaneKore for entertaining my late night thoughts and helping write some of this A+ dialogue/sassual tension. The lip freckle was all for you, babe!
> 
> I often feel like Dick and Damian's relationship is much like driving at night through treacherous hills with your eyes closed. Nightcall will forever be one of my favorite songs. 
> 
> I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel  
> I want to drive you through the night, down the hills  
> I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear  
> I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear

Dick carefully picked his way through the manor. It was silent and dark, almost eerie, but he knew better than that. As a child, he’d learned every inch of the place, searching for cracks and old skeletons and hideaway rooms.

Turned out Batman was by far the biggest, ugliest secret. He still was, really. An ever-swinging revolving door of personalities, darkness and pain.

And justice, of course.

Damian’s bedroom was at the end of the west wing, just past the library and adjacent to a row of empty, dust-covered guest rooms.

Earlier that night in the batcave, Bruce had been stiff-lipped and dead-eyed on the subject. But Dick had worn him down with his incessant questions, until he’d learned a single detail on what had transpired: Damian had disobeyed direct orders in the field.

Not unheard of, certainly, for Damian. With his stint at Robin, he’d learned to control his emotions better, practised how to listen and anticipate instead of blindly leaping into situations with muscles coiled tightly in his white-hot, self-righteous rage.

But Bruce’s lack of emotion and single-minded dismissal had clued Dick in on the real situation at hand. At seventeen, Damian was going through what he’d gone through at a similar age -- the restless, gnawing desire for what came next.

For Dick, it had been Nightwing. For Damian, it could be anything. Or not _anything_ , exactly, and if Dick knew Damian at all, that was part of the problem, too.

Of course, the unpredictability of the situation scared Bruce. There were too many unknown factors, too many words left unsaid, too many voices trying to claim Damian for their own.

And one very, very silent voice. And, probably, the one Damian wanted most.

Tonight, it was Dick’s turn to trade in his tight-rope and face off against a well-trained, but starving tiger.

Once outside Damian’s door, Dick knocked gently. Despite the late hour, he’d knew Damian would be awake, knew a Robin’s sleeping habits as well as he knew his own.

They were all maddeningly, _frighteningly_ the same in that way. Dick briefly thought of Tim, who stole cat-naps under his desk after board meetings with a coffee mug still gripped in his fingers; and Jason, who still sometimes snuck into the penthouse apartment during the day to steal a few precious hours of sleep.

“Come in,” Damian’s voice cut through the silence clearly.

Dick signed before pushing the door open. “Damian,” he said quietly, as he entered and nudged the door shut behind him.

There was nothing but darkness until Dick’s eyes adjusted to the room, and by then it was too late to stop the onslaught of emotions at the scene laid out before him.

Or, more accurately, at the apex predator lying in wait.

Damian was sprawled out against the pale blue bedsheets with a hand resting behind his head. The angle exposed the soft, long column of his throat, but Damian’s eyes were as sharp as ever, twin green fissures burning in the darkness. Dick was lost in the pull of Damian's hard stare and the unguarded _want_ he saw in the dark depths.

His careless pose did nothing but draw attention to the fact that he was completely and utterly naked.

It felt like hours that Dick stood there, trapped in the haze of the moment and drinking in every detail like he was starved for it. The moonlight streaming in through the large bedroom windows coated Damian’s tawny skin in milky blue hues. Even with shadows pooling in the spaces between his ribs and the hard lines of his stomach, every raised scar looked as if it were burning.

When exactly had he grown taller than Bruce? His youth made his muscles wiry and a little gaunt, but Dick knew it was just a matter of time before that changed.

Dick heard his breath hitch in his throat and it was loud in the silent room. He could feel Damian’s eyes on him, catching the interested tilt of his hips and the way he was so, so lost in the moment. His knees trembled, betraying his desire to bend to the raw power radiating from the youngest Wayne lounging lazily on the bed.

“What’s wrong, Grayson?” Damian asked quietly, but Dick heard the haughtiness underneath, and the growling edge that was so much more dangerous than a purr. “You sound like you can’t breathe.”

Dick tore his eyes from the endless curve of Damian’s legs long enough to catch the harsh lines of the younger man’s mouth, before he quickly lowered his gaze to the floor. It took all of his willpower to do so, and still, he pinched the inside of his elbow.

He would have done worse, if Damian hadn’t been watching him so carefully.

“Damian,” Dick begged, because he wasn’t above that. “Can you _please_ cover yourself.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Dick strained to hear the rustle of bedsheets sliding against skin, but there was nothing but Titus growling at the foot of the bed.

“Do I make you uncomfortable?” Damian asked.

Dick frowned at the floor. _Yes, you’re making me uncomfortable_ , Dick thought. _Yes, I am so, so, thoroughly fucked._

“Stop taking your bad mood out on me,” he said, instead. Losing his cool in front of Damian wasn’t going to help.

“Why shouldn’t I show off my body?” Damian demanded, as if he’d heard Dick’s thoughts. “I’m in peak physical condition. I have nothing to hide.”

Dick clenched his fists at his sides and tried to switch tactics. “I’m sure Titus and Alfred the Cat agree,” he said, a bit wryly. “Now, please, get dressed. I want to talk to you.”

Damian sucked on his teeth, but after a brief pause, Dick heard the sheets rustle around on the bed.

“Fine,” he drawled. “I’m decent.”

 _You’ve never been decent a day in your life_ , Dick thought, and then bit his lip. That line of thinking wasn’t going to lead him anywhere good.

“Thank--,” Dick lifted his head slowly and the words died on his lips.

Damian had pulled the corner of the sheet so that it covered a few inches between his legs, which served only to call attention to the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the smooth silk. The rest of his skin was left tortuously exposed, all lithe muscle underneath marked up cinnamon.

Damian leered at Dick from his bed, his body relaxed but his eyes slanted in an unspoken challenge.

 _A very well-trained but starving tiger_ , Dick thought, and swallowed.

“Damian,” Dick sighed, but refused to move his eyes away. “Being a pain in the ass must run in your family.”

If possible, the look on Damian’s face got even sharper, making Dick think of the katana that Damian favored, flashing in the middle of a street fight.

“I cannot hear you,” Damian said easily, in complete contrast to the dark look on his face. “Come closer.”

“You have excellent hearing,” Dick replied. “Better than most.”

Damian shifted on the bed, so that he was leaning back on his elbows, drawing Dick’s eyes to the broad expanse of his chest and his narrow hips. “I want to see your face when you talk to me.” There was a slight pause as Damian tilted his head, as cunning as ever. “What are you afraid of?”

A million thoughts ran through Dick’s mind, none of which he wanted to acknowledge with Damian so close.

It hadn’t been that long ago, when Dick had called Damian Robin as they swung through the city. When he’d felt Damian hot on his heels, unpredictable and barely controlled chaos, but _his_ partner. The friendship they’d forged, the understanding.

And now, at seventeen, Damian felt more out of reach than ever. The whole reason he had come up here was to talk to Damian about his future, what _he_ wanted. It wasn’t the time for Dick to be selfish.

Damian deserved better than that.

“I asked you a question, Grayson,” Damian repeated, cutting into his thoughts.

“Too many things,” Dick said, his voice going hoarse, honest. _“Everything.”_

Damian let out an angry hiss of breath. “You are not a coward."

In the tense set of his soldiers and the raw edge of his voice, Dick read the implications in Damian’s words: _I do not waste my time on cowards._

“Damian,” Dick warned, brushing a hand through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re saying. What you’re...asking."

The bedroom felt thick and too warm, and there was an air of danger that set the hairs standing on the back of Dick’s neck. Damian looked thoughtful, his eyes moving over every inch of Dick’s body like the answer was written on his skin.

His lips drew thin and his voice brittle, but not weak. Never that. “Do you find me … inadequate?”

Dick sighed and turned his head away, to stare out into the dark gardens stretching out beyond Damian’s bedroom windows. "When have I ever given you the impression that you're anything less than?"

He tried to keep the pleading from his tone, but he knew Damian heard it.

“Then come closer,” Damian growled, low in his throat. “Please."

There were few things that Dick could deny him, and despite the warning signs, he felt himself drawing closer to Damian on the bed. It didn’t feel smart or safe, but he could count the times on one hand that Damian Wayne had ever uttered the word _please_.

When he was standing at the edge of the bed, the youngest Wayne snatched Dick’s hand lightning quick and pulled him closer, threading their fingers together. It wasn’t gentle -- Damian reserved gentleness for small animals and almost nothing else -- but neither was it cruel.

Dick’s knee bumped the side of the bed form the force of Damian’s gesture, causing him to rest one leg on the mattress while his other hand landed in the soft sheets pooled near Damian’s head. He was so close to Damian now that he could feel the warmth of his body seeping into the places they almost touched.

Dick’s pulse spiked and he tried, unsuccessfully, to slow his heartbeat with mediation. He was pulled into the lost look on Damian’s face, which was so far from his usual, angry boredom. His eyes were even more green close up, glowing like candle flames with enough heat to burn the entire manor to the ground. This close, Dick could see the light dusting of freckles resting high on Damian’s cheekbones and the one lone, light freckle on the fullest part of his lips.

It was torture, to be so close to Damian’s lips and not kiss him until they were both breathless. At the very least, he wanted to press his thumb into the crease of Damian’s pout, feel the razor edge of his smile against his fingertips.

Dick had always liked playing with dangerous things.

“Grayson,” Damian said, like a breath. His eyes went soft the same way they got when he looked at Titus. And still, he knew those eyes missed nothing as they moved over Dick’s face and his throat, and then lower, to where their hands were intertwined.

"Is it because…,” Damian swallowed and then steeled himself. “I am inexperienced?"

Dick wanted to rear back like a startled animal, but years of training kept him still and tense over Damian’s body.

“That doesn’t have anything--,” Dick struggled to find the words trying to claw their way out his throat. “No. Absolutely not.”

Something boiled to the surface in Damian’s face. It was very close to the quiet, cold rage he’d seen so many times, the kind made for hurting others. Dick was suddenly reminded of Damian’s parents and how equally insane and passionate they both had been through the years. And how awful they were when it came to affection.

“You don’t want me?” Damian bit out and his grip on Dick’s hand tightened almost painfully.

“I want you,” Dick said, truthfully. And once he’d said it, there was nothing stopping the rest of the words from spilling out of that locked box he kept inside. “I want you so much it’s become an ache, a sickness. It weighs on my every thought, colors my every action. Every time we’re together, my eyes are drawn to you like you’ve changed the gravitational pull of the earth. And when we’re not together, I’m lost.”

“Then why--”

 _“I can’t,”_ Dick responded, more harshly than he wanted. “This is your time. You’re done with Robin, I can feel, even now, how badly you want something for yourself.”

Damian looked like he wanted to argue, but the look on Dick’s face kept him quiet.

“You do. I’ve been there. So has Tim -- it just happens. I can’t get in the way of that right now. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“But I want you,” Damian said.

Dick shook his head. “Maybe you do today. But you need to figure out what’s keeping you here for tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. What’s next for you, _Robin_.”

Despite everything, the word came out like a caress, and Damian’s eyes fluttered briefly when he said it.

“I want to be,” Damian said, brushing a thumb over the back of Dick’s hand. “I want to be _your_ Robin. Forever.”

The admission made Dick feel like he was jumping off a ledge, that first spike of fear and adrenaline and everything bad, before it turned into something familiar.

“You don't know what you want,” Dick breathed. “You can’t.”

“But I do,” Damian countered, pulling him closer so that their faces were almost touching. He moved their intertwined hands down his body until they were resting over the hardness between his legs, beneath the silken sheet.

Dick wanted to jerk back at the first touch of heat, but Damian held firm, his nails digging painfully into the skin of his palm.

“You feel that?” Damian said, watching with dark eyes. “Does that feel confused to you?”

Dick’s mind went to every bloody mouth and broken bone he’d seen Damian get, every dark alley he’d walked out of with bruises around his neck.

Feeling Damian hard beneath his palm felt a lot like losing control.

“I know you want this, I know you want me to be your _Robin_ ,” Damian continued. “Because you’re still here.”

Dick leaned his face down, so that their foreheads were touching. They stayed like that, trapped in the feel of each other, until Dick shifted, moved to bury his face into the soft skin of Damian’s neck.

“Grayson,” Damian shuddered beneath him, his hands fisting in the material of Dick’s shirt.

He pressed one kiss against Damian’s throat, allowing himself a moment to pull Damian’s taste into his mouth. Damian went pliant under him, arching into the movements of Dick’s body and pushing his skin against Dick’s lips. Everywhere they touched burned.

And then it was over, and Dick moved way, curling into the bed behind Damian and wrapping his arms around him.

“You have always been my Robin,” Dick said, finding Damian’s fingers again and squeezing. “The only Robin I’ve ever had, the only one I’d ever want.”

Damian leaned back into Dick’s touch. “So then why--”

“That’s not ever going to change,” Dick continued, gently cutting Damian off. “No matter what you decide, where you go, what mask you put on. I will always be here.”

Silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You would wait for me?” Damian asked, just as quietly.

“Always,” Dick said, and it was the truth.

They lay like that until the early sun started to stream through the windows, Dick pressed up against Damian’s back and their hands intertwined beneath the sheets.

In their line of work, there wasn't time enough to make promises, no true guarantee of tomorrow.

But wrapped up in the warmth of Damian, it felt like they had all the time in the world to get things right.

**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, this was my first Dick/Dami. How did I do? Do you want to see more? Leave some love, you philistines (oops that was Damian talking, not me!)
> 
> If you also have late night dick/dami feels, please come play with me at cinnamonskull/jayskulll on tumblr.


End file.
